Master died.
He was murdered.
By the two people Master hired.
Why I, at that time when I felt uneasy, didn’t tell Master.
It was my fault. It was my fault. It was my fault.
I’m sorry, Master.
Since they’re enemies. Those guys, I turned them into pieces and mixed them in the feeds for pigs.
But, Master didn’t praise me anymore.
He doesn’t smile anymore.
Hey, Master.
I loved you. I, like you, very, very much.
It would be good if I had told you. If I said it earlier, things might be different.
If I look back on it, there are some empty pages are left in this notebook.
It would be nice if I wrote more densely. Master’s words, actions, facial expressions, it would be nice if I wrote them all.
… Spring arrives again. These empty pages, let’s fill it up at that time.
TrashMTL 